


intervallo

by NotPersephone



Series: Count and Countess Lecter [39]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Evening at the opera, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:07:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22423069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotPersephone/pseuds/NotPersephone
Summary: When the evening at the opera turns disappointing, Bedelia seeks alternative means of entertainment.
Relationships: Bedelia Du Maurier/Hannibal Lecter
Series: Count and Countess Lecter [39]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/884424
Comments: 18
Kudos: 36





	intervallo

The tenor is off.

Hannibal frowns, considering he might have misheard it. But as Rodolfo continues to kindle his love for Mimí, the mismatched pace becomes more apparent. His lips press into a thin line as his fingers tap against his thigh in tempo with the music, the one the man on the stage fails to keep up with properly. It is a shame; Hannibal had looked forward to this performance, yet it became evident early on that this evening will be anything but ideal. The first disappointment were the seats; the private balcony did not provide an appropriate seclusion, the lack of proper side walls leaving the adjacent balconies, and the patrons, on plain view. Hannibal gives the neighbours to his left a scoffing side glance; the woman is visible trying to look impressed by the spectacle while the man appears to be snoozing.

Hannibal scowls; his dismay is one thing, but it cannot compare with his regret of having disappointed Bedelia. Apology at ready, his gaze now moves to her, sitting next to him, expecting her face to mirror his own discontent with the less than stellar production, but finds her looking back at him instead, her eyes shining with intrigue, the opera nothing more than background noise to her. Hannibal’s eyes illuminate in turn; he knows that stare well, a different kind of entertainment on her mind. But the gleam dims as swiftly as it arises; the open nature of the alcove excludes a possibility of the intimate moments that she seeks. Bedelia shifts closer to his seat, hand resting on his thigh. He looks back at her apologetically now as if he alone were responsible for the flaws of the architectural design. Still, it does not discourage her, hand moving up his inner leg ever so gently, nothing more than a casual caress to an overlooking eye, but Hannibal knows that is not her intention. The hand stops at a decent distance from his crotch, but the familiar press of her fingers against his thigh arouses him, nonetheless.

_They can’t._

Hannibal frowns anew, yet another inconvenience making the evening insufferable, significantly _larger_ than the previous ones. An outburst of applause interrupts his mournful thoughts, the end of act one taking him by surprise. The hand leaves his leg as Bedelia joins in on the acclamation, clapping politely. He follows, his manners taking charge despite his vexation, the sensation of her touch lingering on his leg in all its phantom want. The applause ends as suddenly as it started, and the patrons vacate their seats in search of refreshments. He is ready to do the same, hoping at least the quality of the bar is up to the standards, but Bedelia remains seated. She smiles at him and leans forward, lips hovering close to his ear.

_They still can’t_ , even more so now, with the lights turned back on, he thinks as her mouth brushes against his skin. But that does not seem to be her objective.

“I am going to the bathroom,” she speaks quietly, her breath warming his skin and his mind.

He nods, unsure why she has chosen to announce such a trivial undertaking, until her lips move down, and she catches the shell of his ear between her teeth, biting once. Hannibal gasps in surprise; her intent is clear now.

She does not wait for him to answer, getting up swiftly and exiting the balcony. Hannibal does not turn to watch her go, as he normally would, feeling as though it would give away their play, despite no one being around to see it.

_How long should he wait?_

Rules of such encounters are not familiar to him and he has never considered such things before.

Before Bedelia.

Hannibal smiles to himself, feeling a rush of feelings for the one person he wants to experience everything with. Considerations of time forgotten, he stands up promptly and moves towards the door.

He goes out to the hallway, only to be halted in his steps. The space is crowded with people; the wave of audience is moving to and from the auditorium while the attendants rush to deliver pre-requested drinks, the babble of bottled up conversations being now released with fervour. Hannibal hesitates for a brief second, but knowing that Bedelia is waiting for him, puts a fresh zest in his purpose.

Manoeuvring his way through the stream of people, he approaches the bathroom door, once again unsure of the proper formula for the situation.

_Should he announce his arrival with a special knock?_

He contemplates this silly notion as his hand reaches out to tap on the door. He barely grazes the surface with his knuckles when the door opens and Bedelia’s face welcomes him with a kittenish smile. Hannibal feels heat rising beneath his skin; without preamble, she extends her hand to wrap around his wrist and pulls him inside.

After the hubbub of the corridor, the dark tiled space provides an instant soundless respite. Hannibal sighs and inhales deeply; the air is swirling with a melange of Bedelia’s perfume and an unmistakable undertone of her arousal. His head is swimming in heady brew of his favourite aroma.

“You took your time,” she tilts her head in reprimand, making him regret all the moments of hesitation along his way.

“I’m-,” he starts his heartfelt apology, but before he gets a chance to explain himself, Bedelia pushes him against the door, her lips on his.

Hannibal’s hand barely finds the bolt, managing to lock the bathroom door, before he is swept away by her want. She kisses him ravenously again and again, unashamed in her hunger, one that only he can satisfy. He instantly responds to her desire, hand on her cheek, tasting her as deeply as she samples him, her mouth remaining the most delectable delicacy, her body’s heat rising with each press of their lips. Her intense need urging him on, he will unsure her wait was not for nought.

Their lips still locked, he steps forward, away from the door, and towards the side of the sink, pressing Bedelia firmly against the wall. The muffled groan that he swallows from her lips indicates her approval.

They both gasp loudly as their mouths finally part. Hannibal moves his lips to her neck, lapping at her increasing pulse, his hand moving up to fondle her breasts through the fabric of her dress, her nipples straining against the obstacle. She stifles another moan as her hips press forward, demanding more, and Hannibal is more than happy to comply. His hand advances down beneath the side split of her dress, hand grazing the inside of her thigh with deliberate tease before he reaches the delicate barrier of her underwear. The usually smooth lace is already soaked through, making Hannibal swallows a low groan as his fingers press and rub against the fabric, making her hips arch forward.

Her eyes wide and glossy, she impatiently reaches for his belt, undoing the buckle and then the pants’ zipper with practised ease. His cock leaps to her touch, excited and eager to please her. Hannibal sighs as she takes the length of him in her hand and strokes it with deliberation, delighting in being the implement of her pleasure.

Now neither of them is able to wait any longer. The fingers between her legs cease their caress as Hannibal grips the side of her underwear to push it aside. But the gesture is more forceful than intended and the sound of ripping fabric joins their heavy breathing. He looks up at Bedelia with instant expression of remorse, but she merely smiles at him, her gaze more wanton than ever.

_She is exquisite._

It leaves Hannibal nothing but to tear the fabric off completely, letting it fall to the ground as he moves the hem of her dress up and lifts her leg to encircle his waist. Her mouth parts in quivering expectation as he so very surely presses into her. Bedelia’s heads falls back against the wall, her lips turning into a thin white line as she stops herself from moaning out loud. Hannibal pushes in further, hips flushes, adjusting the angle, savouring the feel of her around him. He senses a deep moan of his own looming too close to the surface of his lips but before he cries out, a hand presses against his mouth, smothering the sound. The gesture only arouses him further and he raises her other leg, wrapping it around his body, his grip secure on her hips. The hand leaves his mouth as she grasps his shoulders for support. He begins to move, pressing her hard against the wall. The crystal ornaments of a side lamp jingle vigorously in tempo with his thrusts, a strange accompaniment that neither of them notices. His pace increases as he holds onto her hips with bruising strength. He moves his mouth to her neck once more, relishing the rapid throb of her pulse; he wants to sink his teeth into its beat but knows better than to leave marks in such visible places, settling for a deep kiss. Bedelia’s fingers tangle in his hair as she claims ownership of her own, pulling fiercely. Her other hand continues to press against his shoulder, hastening him in his movements.

As the conscientious rhythm continues, Hannibal feels Bedelia’s muscles tensing much sooner than usual. She comes quickly, so high-strung after all the anticipation. Her tightly shut lips give away and a loud moan leaves her mouth, echoing across the high ceiling of the bathroom, and possibly betraying their activities, but Hannibal does not mind; it is the most perfect sound. He continues to thrust unyieldingly, wanting to prolong her pleasure as much as possible. Only when her trembling abates, he grunts a few low rumbles and comes himself, his body as desperate for release as hers. His head rests on her shoulder as they hold each other in the afterglow, their breathing turning slower, the air around them heavy and suffused with the scent of their pleasure. Finally, he sets her down on the floor with care; her legs sway, but she quickly regains her balance.

A very practical choice of setting, Hannibal thinks as they clean themselves up and readjust their clothing, his slightly more complete than hers. But you cannot tell as she lets her dress fall back to the ground, her hands levelling any possible creases on her waist. Hannibal finishes adjusting the position of his bow tie and is tempted to leave his hair mussed as a mark of her possessiveness, but he knows it would be inappropriate. He runs his fingers through the hair, bringing them back to its previous order. He then steps behind Bedelia, his hand reaching out to smooth her dishevelled locks, his eyes carefully inspecting her back and luckily finding no signs of her being backed up against such a solid surface. He finishes his survey with a brief kiss on her shoulder.

Her appearance once again immaculate, Bedelia reaches down to retrieve the abandoned lace of her ruined underwear, the only remaining evidence of their moments of passion.

“I’m sorry,” Hannibal offers, his gaze sombre.

A corner of Bedelia’s lips turns up slightly in instant amusement. Hand on his chest, she leans forward and presses a kiss on his lips, a slow and gentler one, now that her hunger has been satiated. She then folds the fabric in her hand and unceremoniously places it in his pocket. Hannibal’s face lights up with renewed lust, but the bell announcing the end of the intermission sounds faintly in the distance, curbing any fresh cravings.

He considers the coordination of their exit procedure, but Bedelia already reaches for the lock and opens the door, her steps surprisingly steady. Hannibal’s own legs feel unbalanced as he follows her lead a few seconds later. The corridor is now mostly empty with only a few late members of the audience rushing to return to their seats. He wonders if their indiscretion were noticed by anyone and finds that he does not care if it were. Smiling to himself, he swiftly returns to their balcony, finding Bedelia already poised in her seat as if nothing has occurred. The lights dim and the curtain lifts just as he joins her side.

The tenor appears to have received a few notes during the intermission as his delivery has improved significantly. Or perhaps, it is simply the sudden rush of endorphins in Hannibal’s mind, making him focus only on what is important. The discarded undergarments in his pocket feel like another symbol of his belonging.

He reaches his arm out to take Bedelia’s hand in his and bring it closer to rest on his leg. He relishes the continued warmth radiating from her skin, his fingers brush the underside of her palm and wrist, feeling her now steady pulse under his touch.

She feels so alive and so does he.

As the second act of the opera enfolds, he contemplates a second act of their own that will ensue once they return to their hotel suite. He can hardly let her evening end with one rushed orgasm only.

The remainder of the spectacle leaves Hannibal pleasantly entertained and his applause is very much genuine as the curtain rises to reveal the cast for the very last time.

They make their way to the bar, enjoying much needed refreshments and soon are engaged in conversations with other guests, drawn to their intangible charm, especially Bedelia’s, a fact that never fails to thrill Hannibal.

As a Swiss couple they are currently talking to finishes their verdict of the opera, the woman cannot help herself and praises Bedelia’s glowing complexion.

“What it is your secret?” she asks conspiratorially as though expecting knowledge of utmost secrecy.

Hannibal beams as Bedelia considers her answer, the _satisfying_ truth known to them alone.

“I have a very attentive husband,” she responds with an inscrutable smile.

A sudden charge of feelings goes straight to Hannibal’s head, warm and intoxicating.

“Anything for my wife,” he concurs, taking Bedelia’s hand in his, making the woman stare at them with a distant longing for something as romantic.

But any further musings on her part are interrupted by her husband, suddenly in need of refilling his glass, utterly inconsiderate. Hannibal and Bedelia watch them walk away, his arm now encircling her waist.

“But he does owe me a pair of undergarments,” she leans closer and whispers into his ear, her lips once again brushing against his skin.

The hand on her waist presses firmer with delight.

“Next time you are entitled to tear something off me,” he responds in the same hushed tone.

Bedelia grins puckishly.

“I will.”

**Author's Note:**

> The title means intermission in Italian.  
> It has been a while since I indulged in some plotless smut and it was a lot of fun. Especially for Bedelia and Hannibal. :)  
> I love these two so much.  
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
